


Arson, Murder, and...Wet Sheets?

by Shadoow (Chikita)



Series: Haikyuu Omo Stuff (English) [21]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu suffers, Bedwetting, Crack, Gen, Humor, Omorashi, Omovember 2020, Teasing, Tobio is dense af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:08:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chikita/pseuds/Shadoow
Summary: Atsumu’s worst nightmare comes true when he ends up wetting the bed while sharing a room with one of his kohais at the youth training camp in Tokyo. Or rather: “How Atsumu almost killed Kageyama twice in the span of two days.”
Series: Haikyuu Omo Stuff (English) [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504397
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Arson, Murder, and...Wet Sheets?

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative Title: How to (not) Survive Training Camp
> 
> First Time writing a bedwetting story or omo in general that doesn't have the desperation "build-up". Hope you still like it 😊 
> 
> Omovember 2020 Day 24: Bedwetting

Atsumu awoke with a jolt, eyes springing open to the darkness around him.

“What the-”, he muttered to himself, flinching at the crick in his neck as he hoisted himself up on his arms. His head was pounding and after most likely zooming through more dreams in one night than a regular person did in a month, that was no surprise. What time was it anyway?

With a groan, he stretched out his arm to grab his phone from the bedside table. Switching it on, the blinding light of his display assaulted his eyes so he held it farther away to squint at the screen. 3:26 in the morning, it said, alongside several LINE messages from his brother he was not going to open. Slipping into a murderous rage in the middle of the night wouldn’t help him sleep better, and he needed a least a few more hours to be of use in the morning. Surely, Tobio-kun, the one still peacefully napping away on his own bed, wouldn’t accept setting advice from someone who missed every ball in a match because he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Atsumu dropped his phone next to his pillow and slumped back down, the sleepy haze lulling him in almost instantly. It wasn’t until he moved one of his legs under the cover, drawing it up to get rid of the numb feeling in his foot, that he felt something that made his nose screw up. Something cold. Something he would’ve loved to ignore because _no,_ this couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be fucking happening. Panic caused his throat to constrict, stealing his breath.

For the first time in years, he was fully awake and on his feet in less than three seconds.

After pacing back and forth for half a minute to calm down from his near heart attack, Atsumu’s hands wandered down his lower body until they rested on the crotch of his pajama pants. Unsurprisingly, the fabric there was wet. Not dripping wet, but wet. His shirt seemed okay, but knowing that the wetness hadn’t spread to his back this time was only mildly comforting. He gulped against the tightness in his throat, eyes watering from the shame and frustration. He’d been okay the first night, so why was this happening _now?_ What had he done to deserve this?

He was moments away from a mental breakdown when a sleepy murmur from the other side of the room yanked him out of his pity party.

For a minute or two, Atsumu stood still, holding his breath until his lungs screamed for air. If Tobio woke up and saw his senpai standing next to his bed with soaked jammies, he was forced to kill him. Sadly, a murder would land him in jail but at least murdering someone was less embarrassing than peeing the bed like a baby. Right? He shook his head at the mental image. No. He couldn’t kill people. He had to think of something else. Something more reasonable. Something that didn’t involve getting his hands dirty with bodily fluids other than his own.

His pants clung to his legs as he moved, making him cringe at the cold and clammy feeling. He had to peel those off right away, clean up, and change into something dry. To his luck, the bathroom was next door so he wasn’t in danger of running into any of his fellow camp attendants.

Shortly after, Atsumu tiptoed back into his and Tobio’s room, holding the most obvious proof of his accident in a knotted plastic back after changing in record time. With a deep breath as if he was about to perform a particularly nasty serve jump serve, Atsumu crouched down to his bed, phone in hand to inspect the damage on his sheets without having to turn on the lights. As expected, there was a giant wet spot darkening the fabric a darker shade of blue. _Oh no._ His hand gripped his phone so hard, he was afraid it’d break in half, his heart beating up his throat. He had to hide that. He had to hide that or he would never be able to show his face again.

Still using his phone, he stripped off the linen and glared at the visible stain on the mattress. If he hadn’t been consumed by anxiety and the urge of self-preservation, he would’ve felt bad for the poor person who had to clean this up later. But for now, he had to work with limited resources. Spraying deodorant everywhere didn’t get rid of the stain, but it did cause the mattress to smell like cucumber and green tea as opposed to...well, urine. If it made him cough a few times, that was part of the deal. A dry towel to keep the wetness from spreading seemed like a good idea, so he placed a bunch of those on top of each other, like a colorful patchwork rug.

Atsumu was so caught up in his work, that he actually _shrieked_ when the room was flooded with light.

“What are you doing?” Tobio’s head peeked out from under a layer of blankets, hair sticking out in all directions, one hand resting on the light switch of his bedside lamp. His eyes were narrowed and swollen from sleep, and yet he was looking directly at Atsumu. Atsumu, who was kneeling on the ground cradling a bunched up sheet in his arms like an infant while his bed looked like either the setting of a natural disaster or an overambitious art project by a fourth-grader.

“Laundry of course!”, Atsumu yelled, louder than he’d intended to, hugging the sheets a little tighter. That had to be the lamest reply in the history of replies but he couldn’t think of anything smarter. He was an idiot. He should’ve told the camp supervisors he needed a single room. It would’ve been so easy to think of an excuse. Impossibly loud snoring? Sleepwalking? Unspecified medical issues? But _no,_ he had to try and tough it out, and _that_ was what he got.

“Now?” Tobio sat up against the wall, a bewildered look on his face as he looked around and wrinkled his nose, probably smelling the tantalizing aroma of Atsumu’s deodorant. “Why? Did you-”

“Because those sheets are w-” He bit his tongue, wincing at the pain. “They’re ugly, hideous! I want to _burn_ them!” Wow, fantastic. Way to go, Atsumu, he mentally kicked his own behind as hard as he could, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he scrambled to his feet to race to the door. In his haste to get away, he stepped on a corner of the bedsheet. His feet got tangled up, and before he had a chance to react he tripped, a yelp escaping him as he crashed to the floor face down.

“You need help with that?” Tobio’s voice penetrated the air, only adding to Atsumu’s suffering.

“No!”, Atsumu whined, choosing to stay on the floor with his cheeks smushed against the crumpled bedding that had cushioned his fall, butt in the air. This was the most horrible night ever. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this level of humiliation. “It’s fine. Just lem’me alone.”

“Okay. Good night,” Tobio replied in the same sleepy voice he’d been using this whole time, switched off the light, and flopped over as if nothing had happened. Half a minute later, his even breathing was the only noise piercing the silence. With a defeated sigh, Atsumu picked himself up from his pathetic position to make his way over to the laundry room. His phone’s notification sound went off two times in a row, and before stepping outside, Atsumu turned around to flick a middle finger at it.

\---

“You’re _not_ telling anyone about this!” Atsumu glared at the guy sitting on the opposite side of the table who was busy stuffing his face with ridiculous amounts of broccoli. “I like ya Tobio-kun, but this is something that has to stay between you and me. Ya got that? I’m serious.”

Tobio made a face, eyebrows furrowing as if he was either constipated or thinking very hard. Atsumu’s patience wavered, anxiety ruining his appetite to the point that he couldn’t even touch his food. Luckily, Tobio, despite his awkwardness, didn’t seem like an asshole who would mock people for things they had no control over, or else he would’ve done so already. He was a goody-two-shoes after all. But then again, if he told any of his scrubby teammates over in Miyagi and _they_ started spreading rumors about his bedwetting issues at nationals he would literally die.

“Don’t worry,” Tobio finally spoke up after he’d finished chewing, loud enough for the whole canteen to hear and turn their heads. The words, though spoken in the calmest, most innocent way imaginable, caused Atsumu to spiral into a bout of anxiety. His fingers tensed around his chopsticks, snapping one of them in his panicked frenzy. Was it too late to kill him? Could he still-

“I won’t tell anyone you sleep with a fox plushie.” Atsumu stared at Tobio, the remnants of his chopsticks falling into his food bowl. A few tables to their left, Hoshiumi dropped his tray on the floor, hysterical laughter filling the place before the midget ran up to their table to slap Atsumu’s back with more force than one would expect from his stature. More people chimed in, either chuckling or making offhand comments, as opposed to the likes of Sakusa who flat out ignored the chaos.

“That’s adorable! I didn’t know you had a soft side. No need to be embarrassed, ‘Tsumu!” Hoshiumi was wheezing with laughter until Komori, smiling to himself, walked past with his own food tray and told him to tone it down a little so they wouldn’t get yelled at by the coaches.

“I don’t get what the big deal is. I had a vabo-chan plushie in my bed until I was fourteen,” Tobio said through a mouthful of rice, scowling when everyone’s attention switched to coo over him instead. After Hoshiumi had started to boast about his extensive collection of seagull figurines, the rest of the camp attendants felt comfortable enough to join the passionate discourse about children’s toys, and “weird things they do but can’t tell anyone because oh god no!”

“It’s a pillow, not a plushie. The pillows here suck.” Atsumu said too quietly for anyone to hear through the lively chatter, face in his hands as he contemplated his life choices. But through all the shame and unwanted attention, he felt relieved. His horrible secret wasn’t out yet. He was alive and didn’t have to kill Tobio. His morning could’ve been better but also so _so_ much worse.

“I’ll crush ya all at nationals.” He stood up, taking his still full tray with him while ignoring Tobio’s quiet “sorry” and Hoshiumi’s question of why he wasn’t eating his broccoli. There was something he needed to take care of if he wanted to survive the remaining nights of camp. Something involving stealing and hoarding a bunch of towels from the communal bathrooms.


End file.
